Picture this: you’re riding a Montreal Bixi in Verdun as the sun sets and the rain pelts down on you (pelts down is for dramatic effect, it was actually drizzling). Your friend turns around from a block away and gives you this massive grin—really an ear-to-ear grin—as you both pass a skate park. A full skate park with massive ramps that dip three metres.
I grinned back, matching her enthusiasm, and shouted, “I’ve been wanting to get into my skater girl era!”
Cues Avril Lavigne song.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked. I was. I really was. But why was I suddenly feeling so emboldened and athletic? It was completely unnecessary. There was no reason to feel such a surge of athleticism. Alina, please, take a seat—for the love of God.
Alas, I watched my actually athletic friend (whose identity shall remain anonymous, if only to add a layer of mystery to the lore) gracefully weave around the edge of the ramps. I enthusiastically took a video of her for a full minute in utter awe. While I admired her through my camera lens, I started to feel a rush of confidence and thought, Hey, it can’t be that hard. It was that hard. The pavement was that hard. And it was unforgiving.
So off I went, and my path to glory was very, very short-lived. The moment I saw the dip of the ramp, I panicked, let go of the Bixi, and came plummeting straight into the hell of extreme elbow-dislocation agony. Yes, a full-grown woman, brimming-with-life-and-adventure, plastered to the pavement with her right arm twisted like a pretzel.
I screamed in agony—deep, profound, earth-shattering agony. My friend called an ambulance. Some kids offered us water. Other kids returned the Bixis. And then, at last, an ambulance arrived, alongside my mother, who looked aghast. I told her not to worry, that it wasn’t that bad. It was that bad.
The paramedics loaded me into the magic ambulance and off we went, YIPEEEE, on a rollercoaster ride through the mosaic of Montreal’s pothole-ridden roads in an ambulance with zero suspension. It was a tumultuous time. Truly riveting. I had never felt so alive.
I will spare everyone the details of my ten-hour wait in the hospital because we all know how wonderfully splendid the medical system is in Quebec.
Although dislocating my elbow was not part of the assignment my supervisor, Tim Parr, gave me, I think I learnt a great deal from this experience.
Lesson 1: Do not take a Bixi, a very heavy bike, to a skate park with massively steep ramps or any skate park for that matter. The message was received loud and clear.
Lesson 2: Common sense should not be an enemy but a kind, gentle friend.
Lesson 3: Not exactly a lesson, more of a fear. I hope childbirth is not as painful as this. If it is, we are giving up on the whole children idea and switching to dogs.
Lesson 4: Being able-bodied…hey now, people, listen closely. Picking up on some of Ricardo’s mannerisms, if you haven’t checked out his blog, please do. Never take for granted what your body can do for you, from walking, hanging from a bar, and even washing your hair. Thank you, Ma. In the end, I upgraded you from a three-star to a five-star salon experience. Yes, my mom washed my hair for me in our bathroom sink. If anything, I am generously providing her with a new skillset. Great daughter, right? I agree.
While sharing this silly moment, I couldn’t help but think, what if my future employer saw this? Dear future employer, consider this a character-building experience. You were once young, too, right? One of my first comments while lying on the skate park pavement was how I was going to finish my internship with my dominant arm in a pretzel state. Luckily, I was met with compassion and understanding from my supervisor and colleagues.
Though this incident had no direct link to my professional work, it pushed me to reflect on my internship and the values guiding it. I realised that compassion, understanding, and forgiveness are essential pillars of human rights work, regardless of the specific role. These innate qualities, so often overlooked in society, in the workplace, and in life, are what truly strengthen human rights. I also learnt that some of the best results come from taking risks, from doing things scared, from stepping forward even when you do not feel fully confident. Yes, in this case, I ended up with a dislocated elbow, but it is more or less fine now, my friend and I are much closer, and it makes for a good story. More importantly, it reminded me of a simple truth: ce sont ceux qui ne font rien qui n’ont rien. And for the record, I have since gotten back on a Bixi, just not in a skate park.
I believe there is no perfect formula for working in human rights. What matters is the ability to dare, to put yourself out there with passion and fervour. Without a certain level of daring, systems of oppression and the status quo cannot be changed. Sometimes you just have to hop on a bike and say yolo. I know I may sound idealistic, but perhaps that is exactly what we need: more idealism and less nihilism, more hope and less cynicism, more courage and less fear.
For whoever does the same internship as me next year, or really anyone who comes across my blog and got even a brief moment of amusement from this, well, mission accomplished. But in all seriousness, future interns for the Cree Nation Government are more than welcome to reach out if they ever feel so inclined. I would be very happy to talk to you. I had a wonderful experience and I’m very grateful.
Here is a picture of the team and I the day after I removed my cast! Shoutout to Vicky Longchap and Aoife Mc Gregory who worked with us remotely.